Shumaisa Rehman
HYPOCRISY in politics is a time-honoured tradition. Opposition parties slam the government for doing and saying the very things they once did and said, and vice versa. Accusations of hypocrisy are so common in Pakistani politics that one usage of the term “politician” is as a near-synonym for “hypocrite.” “What’s your dad like?” “’He’s a real politician.” On a serious note, what worries me in particular, is not the hypocrisy but rather, the increasingly lenient view on where the distinguishing line between what’s acceptable and not-acceptable ought to be. I know I am advancing in years but not too long ago, the hypocrisy of politicians was not considered laudable and most of us prized integrity in our politicians, at least in voice if not in action. Flash forward to 2020 and it’s obvious that the general population has now been beaten, bruised and battered to the point where Niccolò Machiavelli’s defence of hypocrisy as an indispensable tool in a world in which “a man who wants to make a profession of good in all regards must come to ruin among so many who are not good” seems like a most necessary and natural thing to accept.
The same aunties and uncles that would scream ‘murder’ every time they saw a politician take a left, right or U turn are increasingly voicing their cognizance and acceptance of hypocrisy as an inevitable reality of our political system. Politicians can now even more openly employ persuasive rhetoric with heightened degrees of dissimulation under an even larger blanket labelled – moral necessity. Immanuel Kant famously condemned what he called the “political moralist.” Someone who “fashions his morality to suit his own advantage as a statesman,” paying homage to morality while devising “a hundred excuses and subterfuges to get out of observing them in practice.” Doesn’t this description aptly reflect the rank and file of the entire Pakistani political milieu? Why then are the people silent, and equally importantly, why have they not shown these politicians the door? It is important to note that hypocrisy is not a mere inconsistency between one’s words and deeds. There are reasons for going back on a statement other than hypocrisy, like having a weak will, changing one’s mind, or realizing a lofty idea is just not practical. For example, I would condemn some things I did as a teenager, but that does not automatically make me a hypocrite.
The most vivid hallmark of hypocrisy, is that the hypocrite adopts a holier than thou attitude and pays nauseating homage to morality not out of genuine concern, but for self-serving reasons — to gain some undeserved advantage, to excuse himself, or to hide from blame. It is for this reason that we cannot trust that the hypocrite’s utterances reflect what he truly cares about, rather than what he believes to be advantageous in the moment. Hypothetically speaking, an example of this would be a political leader born and raised by the establishment, who suddenly re-models himself as a self-styled Renaissance Man for democracy whilst sipping tea and enjoying scones in a foreign capital. Or a self-proclaimed Brave heart who can allegedly withstand any amount of pressure for his ideals, but folds even for minor things such as the religious composition of his Economic council. All this should be enough to make one cynical and compel the voters to disengage. Instead what we are observing are large numbers rallying out in support, chanting vociferously and enjoying their plates of biryani whilst in the midst of a global pandemic and a serious economic crisis that comes with it. The Pakistan Tehreek Insaaf pre-election chin wags in Gilgit Baltistan and Pakistan Democratic Movements ongoing Greatest Hits Tour being recent cases in point.
The rise of the internet, which captures every tweet and video clip in perpetuity, makes it easier than ever to catch hypocrites in the act. No doubt, the Twitter popcorn gallery knows hypocrisy when it sees it, but do the hypocrites themselves? Do politicians—or regular people—realize when they’re contradicting themselves? Surely all of you have watched the paragon of excellence and embodiment of pulchritude that is our former Finance Minister –Ishaq Dar on BBC’s Hard Talk. To be brutally candid, Dar’s performance was akin to the aerodynamic properties of a bungalow, the coordination of an American drone attack and a typical night about town for someone blessed with the personality of a dial tone. As I saw it, the reason he was unnerved was simply because selling mis-truths is a hard thing to do for anyone, even the most professional political hypocrites. One of the consequences of the tangle of distortions, deceptions and fabrications.
What I found particularly hard to digest was not his response to Stephen Sackur’s question regarding his assets but his health. By the grace of the Almighty, his interview form notwithstanding, Dar looked like a picture of good health and not someone who needed to be in a foreign country getting health treatment for three years (and counting) yet he drabbled on about being too fragile to come back to his own country. Thank you, Mr. Dar for helping me recall the famous joke – “How can you tell when a politician is lying? He moves his lips”- and chuckle to myself on what was a rather staid evening (until that point in time) at the Rehman house. I guess I still haven’t become the aforementioned understanding aunty, just yet!
—The writer is an anchor-person, journalist and activist, based in Karachi.
